


Into the Woods

by OnLyMinO



Category: Naruto, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Naruto Fusion, But it was happy ending, Character Death, Gen, Post-Reichenbach, Post-Season/Series 02 AU, Utopian Naruto Setting, ninja fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-22 03:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10688937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnLyMinO/pseuds/OnLyMinO
Summary: "John Watson,Thank you for your help, you didn't know, but severe exhaustion and dehydration were the least danger I was in.You can probably guess what I am capable of. So if you ever need my help, open the scroll. —M"Or: John wanted to destroy Moriarty, he asked for help.And it was not Mycroft's.





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> My first contribution on this site and Sherlock fandom. I can't tell anything but Naruto is my most extensively-researched fandom, and I can't seem to let go. Er, anyway, go ahead, and tell me what you think.

**Part I**

When John Watson was still a student at Bart's, he saved a peculiar young man from a certain death.

When he found him, the man was covered in blood, though later John found out that most of them were not the man's. He found him _that_ night in a darkened alley; the man was in the brink of exhaustion with severe dehydration and concussion. John was just about to take out his phone to call ambulance when his hand was caught with surprising strength (considering the state the man was in) preventing him to call for an aid. And curse his bleeding conscience for it was the only thing that told him to drag a complete stranger, a possible serial killer, covered in blood into his tiny flat.

He never caught the stranger's name, but somehow, at the end of it, the man managed to learn his name. At first he thought the man was just a common drunk man who can't hold his drink, then that changed when he smelled the blood on him. At that, he thought the man he rescued was, a victim of mugging. That assessment changed again when he actually examined him, there were very few wounds on him. Conclusion, those blood was not his; thus, this man had just probably killed someone.

Or several someones.

When he learned that, still trying to half dragging half pulling the man out of the deserted alley, he wanted to drop him and leave, called the police and forget this encounter ever happened but, his conscience disagreed. Therefore, despite the various alarm bells ringing in his head, he lugged the man into his flat— of course— after he searched the man for any weapons and confiscated them into his backpack.

By the time they arrived inside his flat the man lost his consciousness, it was both a blessing a curse. On one hand the man was easy to maneuver, not a protest of being manhandled; on the other hand the man was a dead weight against John body, a dead weight of ten stones not counting the heavy looking attire the man wore.

After a brief struggle of opening his door, he dropped the man on his beaten couch and got to work.

First John got rid of the man's heavy flak vest, (it was the colour of army green, John noted absentmindedly) not the least bit queasy with the amount of blood concealing the green colour. He found a metallic symbol or insignia in the shape of a swirl with a corner, and at that time he found it to be important, even when he didn't know what it meant; then form fitting jacket, and finally the long sleeved shirt underneath.

John still remember the man's striking features, his slanted, sharp and bright, bright blue eyes, enhanced by the dark reddish brown dried blood on his face, they seemed to be glowing in the dark that seemed otherworldly; wild oddly spiked blonde hair mated with blood, fair skin but not Caucasian, more like alabaster, looked even paler smeared with blood; and after he got rid of the blood on the man and dressed the numerous but shallow wounds, John realized that the blond man could be one of the few men that can be called beautiful.

So, John called him Pretty Boy in his head. The man barely said a word, but he seemed to understand John, so he probably speaks English. John always explained what he was doing, like when he's about to clean the wounds, remove some clothing, this is water, please drink slowly, etc. Pretty Boy promptly collapsed after that.

John left him alone.

With potentially dangerous man inside his flat, however weak, John didn't plan to fall asleep. But slept he did. And in the morning there was no traces left of the man he rescued anywhere in the flat; no drips of blood on the floor or on the sofa he left him, the weapon he confiscated inside his pack were gone, the medical kit he had yet to put back was meticulously packed—the bandages he used were replaced, the bloodied towel he used to clean Pretty Boy was back to its original condition—clean and dry, in fact until John found a curious scroll on his bed—the last place he searched, as not even him enter the bedroom last night—John thought that it was a strange vivid dream.

On top of the scroll was a note.

_"John Watson_

_Thank you for your help, you didn't know, but severe exhaustion and dehydration were the least danger I was in._

_You can probably guess what I am capable of. So if you ever need my help, open the scroll._ — _M"_

* * *

 

John never thought that he would someday open the scroll for the purpose of killing someone. His doctor side should never agree, but Moriarty was not a very good person, he was a bloody awful one at that.

He pulled the scroll from its hiding place, he gripped the scroll so hard his knuckles white and then decided that a nice cuppa would probably a good idea before he faced anything he was about to meet. Comfortable in his armchair, he opened the scroll.

There was a very brief flash of yellow then a gun shot.

It had been give or take fifteen years, but he was pretty sure that M was not the blond in front of him. For one, he didn't remember that M had whiskers like marks on his cheeks; second, this man was taller by two inches, (yes he remembered that too, somehow, or maybe it was because the man in front of him might be as tall a Sher—); third, and the most important was this man, or boy, was way younger than he was supposed to. In truth, the boy looked about 18, so a teenager then.

They both kept their distance, after the initial surprise on John part when the young man suddenly appeared almost literally on his lap, seeing as he was sitting down on his favourite armchair when he opened the bloody scroll, John in a split of second had the Sig on hands and fired, only to find that the teen was occupying Sherlo—the other armchair. Still, as much as he wanted to get caught up in staring contest with Whiskers or had a nervous breakdown about his very sudden appearance, the shot would have alerted someone and also _Mycroft_. The only silver lining of the situation was that Mrs. Hudson was actually out of the house, visiting her niece or something, he didn't really paid attention. Thus, concerning Mycroft, they must be out of here in less than five minutes if they want to talk. He didn't really know how to achieve this, nevertheless they need a secure place, because he got a feeling that Whiskers was no less private than Pretty Boy—what with the need to leave no evidence of their existence and all, and he need the other blond to know that they were about to be ambushed by police and special force alike.

"My name is John Watson and we need to get out of here immediately," John met the teen's gaze, and put a lot of conviction in his eyes. Fortunately, the teen caught his urgency; he stood up from the chair on his full six foot something height with one arm to John direction as an invitation to get close. John stood up and took the one step to be in the young man's bubble. The taller blond then closed his arm around John.

"Hug me."

John only had half second to wonder before he did just that. And in the next second they were no longer in 221B Baker Street.

* * *

 

The news about the fired gunshot and John disappearance only took two minutes until it reached Mycroft ears and took another full minute until response teams barged in 221B Baker Street. They found nothing out of the ordinary. There was no sign of struggle, an addition of bullet on the wall was another thing they made note, and there was no sign of Doctor Watson anywhere in the flat. They might not be Sherlock Holmes but they were competent enough to take notice that Doctor Watson was in the flat until few minutes ago. There was no breakfast made, the Doctor these days made tea as his main consumption, and they found the abandoned cup of tea on the armchair side, untouched. Thus, whatever happened was urgent enough that the doctor leave the flat immediately. They reported curtly to their earpiece on their observation, and methodically scan the place room to room. They also took pictures for Mr. Holmes benefit.

The team were still investigating when Mr. Holmes enter the living room ten minutes later. He definitely found whatever they missed being somewhat alarming because then he asked immediately for the picture of the living room, particularly the one showing the armchairs. Without delay, the one with the camera showed Mr. Holmes the requested picture. His eyes narrowed imperceptibly.

"Check under the armchairs," Mr. Holmes ordered.

They found a strange scroll under the red armchair. The scroll was already open and it showed strange squiggles and symbols.

. . .

"Crap," was what Mr. Holmes said after he looked at the opened scroll for five minutes. Yes, he just stared, leaving all of them tensing as the minute passed by.

Whatever significance the scroll to Mr. Holmes, never, in their time under his command had they heard him curse. They didn't think that even declaration of war would provoke this reaction, no; they imagined The Ice Man would look annoyed at best, as war would inconvenience a lot of people. But this— they suddenly dreaded the next few hours, seeing as they could be their last.

* * *

 

When the sensation of being pulled through particularly narrow tunnel at the speed of sound stopped merely seconds later, though it felt like forever, he realized that he was on the ground on all fours trying to rein his impulse to puke. When he got his bearing back he noticed that they're in the middle of woods, with great trees as far as his eyes can see. He looked at his companion questioningly, his alarm bells had not stop ringing. He still got his gun, if Whiskers tried anything, he had no compulsion of not using it.

Whiskers grinned at him, then suddenly he appeared mere centimeters from John face, only to tap him on the forehead. John had a few moments to wonder if this was going to be common occurrence with Whiskers, started with dropping on his lap and then to hugging the bloke to travel at impossible speed consequently, ensuring John to hold on dear life at the taller blond, and it was very intimate seconds.

This young man needed to be taught about personal space. Definitely not an Englishman—

 _"Obvious,"_ Sherlock in his head said, probably with biting sarcasm, _"Astounding level of observation, John. Now if you actually paid attention, did you notice that he—"_

John abruptly cut the beginning of tirade of deduction in his head because the world just melted layer by layer in front of him. Yes, _melting_ layer by layer. At first it was the woods, the rich and tall vegetation; then it melted to show a plain, it melted again to show them that they were at the base of a mountain, and it was still in the middle of melting.

"Wha—a"

"Welcome to Hidden Leaf," Whiskers said with oddly fitting Cheshire grin. John wouldn't be surprised if he actually said 'Welcome to Wonderland'.

Yes that would be fitting indeed, because now in front of him was a gargantuan double gate. It was green with red illustration of fire on each side. The sight behind them was something out of fiction, he couldn't draw parallel on where he might find such architecture, he'd say Japan, but even that only explained few things; just the roof style actually, the ground was neither earth nor concrete, but it was solid and hmm, probably some kind of unpolished marble. Most of the buildings were circular, there were little edge or corner here, and tall, but different to the sky scrapper found in big cities, they were not covered in glass— wait, maybe they were glass but not as reflective or transparent as the ones he was used to. The shorter building mostly made from plane of woods than concrete, they actually looked rather fragile standing beside the other tall buildings. There was no power line in sight so it was probably underground or they had different source of electricity, he won't be surprised if that was the case. The clothes they wear were familiar enough, of course with some exception here and there.

There was no car or any vehicle in sight. The people he could see on the street walked with no apparent order, there was no pedestrian side or anything like that, because there was no risk of speeding car or bus or any fast moving containers. Did these people bloody walk everywhere? And if this Hidden leaf was as big as London, that would be quite inconvenient.

It wasn't until he really looked up that he became aware of the big things floating among the taller building— and _huh_ that, he supposed was how people get around here, well . . . maybe this was really another world after all.

He was so busy gawping, that he didn't feel the pull, and suddenly he was sitting on a comfortable plush chair in warm lit cafe of some sort. His companion sat across from him in another plush chair, calmly sipping a cup of tea, his eyes twinkling.

John glared at Whiskers, and then took his own cup of tea from the tea tray on the coffee table between them.

There were five minutes of silence before John cracked.

"Right. So..." was as far as he could get out before the insufferable Mr. Whiskers snorted.

John glared harder, "You're not him." John stated the obvious.

"No I am not," Whiskers too, apparently had no problem in him stating the obvious. Note the sarcasm.

"Then who are you? Who are you to the bloke I helped some decade and half ago? Where in the bleeding hell am I?"

That earned him another mischievous grin and twinkling blue eyes.

Whiskers introduced himself as Naruto, the son of Minato Namikaze or John would know him as M, seeing as Minato only put his initial on the note.

Their name sounded like Japanese to John, but their appearance was anything but. From what he can gather by peeking at the menu, book cover, newspaper, and commercial boards, they also used Japanese letter, some Chinese kanji, Roman letters, and more squiggles he couldn't identify. But he had no time to wonder about this, there were a lot more information and most of them more important than the origin of these people.

It turned out that these people had been waiting for around two years for John to make a contact with them.

The man he helped when he was still a student was one of the best agents they had, and not long after the disastrous but successful mission that led him to take refuge in London, he was chosen as the next leader of Hidden Leaf, their _Shadow_. John didn't try to understand what that actually meant, because the implication was clear. Hidden Leaf, and Naruto personally was indebted to John.

Another bit of information that made the world reel further was that they had abilities, to do almost anything. John snorted, "You can't bring back dead people."

Naruto took a long breath and exhale slowly, catching John eyes and said, "You have no idea."

Maybe it wasn't really what he heard, or even the tone, maybe it was what he saw in Naruto's eyes that make him dropped his cup, he didn't hear the tell-tale of it breaking because Naruto caught it without spilling any drop of the milky tea, not that he noticed, he was frozen on his seat.

"Wha— How— I can't even—"

"It's forbidden but, it has been done before. Now, I can't say that I will help you with that, however, given that I know whom you want to bring back; I must tell you that you won't have to."

John heart skipped a beat, or a dozen he was not sure, he just felt that there was painful twist in his chest. It was always the fragile hope that Sherlock might still be alive that hurt the most, but now, this—

"W-what do you mean?"

Instead of answering, Naruto shot him a question, "Did you even know that the coffin inside Sherlock Holmes grave is empty?"

"No, no— I did—did not— know that." John shake his head, couldn't really believe what he heard, but daring to hope, and another part of him suddenly understood, Mycroft the bloody son of a bitch. The bleeding bastard didn't even look regretful, the Ice Man indeed, but then again, he was behind the charade as well. John was so glad and angry and betrayed . . . then regretted that he even shed a tear.

Sometimes, something like this really made him ask, what he was to Sherlock.

He took several long breaths, willing to calm the fuck down, because as of now he wanted to hit something until his knuckles split raw, wanted to shot something until he emptied the magazine and the spares he kept in his pocket, wanted to scream until he lost his voice, he wanted to laugh at the hilarity of it all, how naive and how easily manipulated he was. However, he was properly raised English gentlemen who dislike showing emotion and losing control, so he kept breathing. He caught a movement from his companion and looked up to find there was something akin to awe on Whiskers. Well, at least his control was appreciated.

"So, John, what can I do for you?"

"Tell me all you know. Don't skip any of it."

"Well, it was quite long; a lot of details you see, the Holmes are rarely uncomplicated. Maybe I can tell you on the way back to London. The older Holmes is in a frenzy to search for you. Probably found the scroll and get the wrong idea. And if Sherlock heard about Mycroft incompetence, he will want to search for you as well consequently, he will risk exposure and break his cover. If that happen, while you will be safe here, your land lady and your favourite detective inspector are not. The assassins hired by Moriarty will finish the job they were contracted to, namely kill the three of you."

"Fuck Mycroft, are you telling me, that Sherlock faked his death to protect me?!" unconsciously John raised his voice in hysteria. Fuck, what had he done? Had he doomed his friend? If Sherlock dead because of this— he— he won't recover from this, oh, god, oh god...

"Hey, hey, hey, don't freak out, I can go to impersonate you and act like nothing happens."

John opened his mouth to protest

"Hush— don't protest, you're shite at acting, and you're flustered, I don't think you are in any condition to resume your life at Baker Street any time soon.

"And how, pray tell are you going to impersonate me?! Sherlock could be anywhere right now, he has no sense of self preservation, and he's going to kill himself. And if I, however unintentionally, put him in danger I can't forgive myself!"

Naruto's gaze was hard, the tension was sizzling and it was cut by a puff of smoke. Another Naruto appeared, then it transformed into John in another puff of smoke. All details in perfect replica, every crease, every wrinkle, body proportion, height, clothing, the slight dirt on his shoes, the frown he was currently wearing, the tired eyes, the slight tremor of his left hand, the limp was hinted his doppelganger walked, and when he touched it, it was bloody solid.

"Believe me now? We can do almost anything. Go."

John doppelganger winked then vanished.

"Now, since that's out of the way, want a tour?"

"Oh, God yes."

**-TBC-**


	2. Part II

**Part II**

* * *

 

  
Mycroft knew the John Watson shown to him identified from the CCTV feeds was not _John_ when he noticed the man was limping, oh, the limp was barely visible, a perfect imitation of the doctor’s gait, when he wasn’t under stress, yes. But after such experience, no, the limp shouldn’t be there.

Thus, it was with a great relish when he addressed the impersonator as the assassin he was; with a bullet to the head. Unfortunately, he was able to evade instant death by substituting with his umbrella, and it was his favorite one too.

It was certainly a shame but he had more important matter to deal with, namely subduing the assassin.

In the end, after his agents made fool of themselves, they drank tea on the armchairs, the assassin now assuming the form of a man with unremarkable brown hair with forgettable blue eyes and forgettable face; their ability was truly remarkable, it was a curious thing that they would rather not deal with others, seeing as they had tremendous advantage over normal people.

They talked.

And that was a surprise by itself. The few dignitaries he had to deal with in the past two years rarely talked as much as this one. He learned that John was fine but was kept in a place he wouldn’t find, even with his resources, he held back a smirk because he was not childish enough to do that, unlike his brother.

That John helped someone with great importance years ago, but only discovered at the same time their world was revealed to the rest of the planet denizen. They wanted to repay John by inviting him to their circle; a great privilege, when many of the powerful governments had a hard time pinning them down just for a confirmation of their existence.

Mycroft had no reason to trust his words, but until they find John, his hands were tied.

Silence stretched between them until a clack from his companion break the tense atmosphere. The unremarkable man put his empty cup on the coffee table; he stood up and turned to Mycroft.

“Call off your brother, we’ll finish the rest. You may tell him that it as a favor to John. We will give you 48 hours to extract him. Catch you later, Mycroft Holmes.”

The man grinned then turned into a cloud of smoke.

* * *

 

Naruto started the tour by leading him to the Hospital and introduced John to one of the prettiest woman he ever met. Her eyes were jade green not unlike the Jade Hair pin in the Blind Banker case. The highlight was her hair, it was pink and by the pink brow on her face he could safely say that they were natural pink, her skin was fair and John could wax poetic on how beautiful she looked. She blushed prettily when he told her so.

A pointed cough from Naruto broke the moment, and so, Sakura proceed to lead the tour in the hospital. She was second in command here, after a woman named Tsunade. Naruto said that this Tsunade was a granny, his word, not John, because when he met her in person John couldn’t help the blush that threaten to overtake his face. She was so careless with her attire, and with the cleavage like hers, she should be wearing...uh, this train of thought could turn into inappropriate theme fast, Ugh... he needed to get his mind out of the gutter.

In the end when they talk about technicalities and chakra and what not, the blush gone and John was able to think. He asked a lot about their source of energy, they called them chakra, a manifestation from the physical and spiritual energy. Every living thing had them, so it was safe to call them life source. Most creatures couldn’t even sense it, but these people could draw this energy out and use them to do extraordinary things.

And John was tickled by the possibility of him even had the slightest control over his.

It was quite incredible way to heal too, seeing the lacerations on Naruto’s arm began knitting itself just by exposing it to a green rays from Sakura’s hands. How the bruises on Naruto’s face turned into his natural healthy colour. (Both the laceration and the bruise were inflicted by Sakura after some offhand comment about her smart brain behind the enormous forehead, must be a sore topic, huh).

When asked about healing heavy disease like cancer or tumour, he received a blank look. Apparently, these people never heard of them happen to their people so they didn’t bother to do any research. But they did have disease caused by chakra, and that was a bit ironic, given that their life source was the one that gave them sickness.

With some reluctance, John left the Hospital following Naruto’s lead.

They visit the special school next which conveniently located just beside the hospital complex. John could read the Ninja Academy banner above the gate, and suddenly he got it. These people were honest to god—ninja. A modern one, but nonetheless, a nation of ninja, oh my god...

It explained a lot, even if all his knowledge about the mysterious occupation was from movies. It explained how secretive they were and how vast the amount of information they seemed to know. It also explained the slightly militaristic vibe this place seemed to have.

This academy taught kids from the age 7 to 15. It was 8 year of education how to move in complete silence, how to read people, access their chakra and mould it, how to kill target in 200 different ways, to master language and other subtle arts to manipulate people, learn the art of disguise and concealment, learn the art of sabotage, infiltration and martial arts. There were a lot of things that escaped John brain but those were the things that he was able to recall. It must be 8 years of nightmare.

 He watched the kids doing their drill, practicing their accuracy, learning tree-walking, some they found in class with lecturers explaining the anatomy a human and their points of weakness, there were actually dead bodies involved, wow.

They met some of Naruto’s friends. There was a group of three. They were one of the recon teams, Naruto introduced them. There must be a lot of good-looking-ness DNA among these people. From Pretty Boy to this team, all the ninja he met were good looking to gorgeous.

The only girl on the squad had this other-worldly beauty in her, her hair was the darkest shade of purple, accentuated the pale skin and her pale pupil-less lilac eyes; absolutely gorgeous, maybe even rivalling Tsunade even if she was way much shyer than the blond woman.

The boy with red fang tattoos on each cheek had this wild exotic look on him and the giant dog beside him; it only amplified the wild vibe on him. His eyes were white with black vertical slits, almost like a cat’s. He didn’t mention it because he got the feeling that he would be offended.

He can’t see much of the last one, the man had this calm, collected, detached and practical that the others lack, probably a really good ninja, thus probably more awkward with social interaction, he could imagine the dynamic in this team, with shy but competent _lilac-eyes_ , the boisterous but reliable _dog-boy_ , and the silent but steadfast _trench-coat guy_.

There was also a teacher with a scar across his nose; he seemed polite and reliable-kind of person. There seemed to be brotherly relation between his guide and this teacher. The teacher, Iruka, shook his hand with a firm grip and welcomed him and to seek him out if Naruto’s explanation was not satisfactory. With a huff of indignation Naruto dragged him from the teacher presence and with few mutters of threats they left the academy. John inquiries were ignored, a proof on how inadequate Naruto was as a guide and as a source of information.

Next the taller blond showed him the civilian district where they could find a lot of tall apartments, shopping mall, civilian schools from elementary to university. Up to this point John didn’t realize just how big this place was. It didn’t help that Naruto had the habit to grab him and the next thing John knew they’re travelling vertically, sometimes horizontally when Naruto had to jump from wall to wall. John giggled every time they changed from jumping upright to sideways and vice versa. That got him a puzzled but amused look from the younger blond.

Naruto explained that even though most of them were civilians, some or most of their family members were part of the force, and these families were old, in fact, they were so old that the newest family to join Hidden Leaf was dated back couple hundred years ago. And since then, they hadn’t added any new member into their nation.

They met a lot of agents on down time here. They all offered a greeting to them. And yes, every one of them fit the category of good looking even with peculiarities like pupil-less blue eyes or snow-white hair, or even paler-than-corpse skin. Sherlock might fit right in with his sharper-than-diamond cheekbones of his.

It wasn’t until an hour after into their tour that John asked why whiskers bothered to explain these all to him. Was it just because he helped Minato? Because, even he, a civilian, knew that that was not enough reason to open up to him, especially about a nation made of secrets like this.

“We wanted to invite you to be one of us.”

Okay... “W-what?”

Naruto smiled; expecting this reaction and once again told him that they wanted John to join them.

“But why?”

Naruto rubbed the back of his neck; he admitted that the offer was not entirely altruistic. “We need you and your signature chakra to strengthen the new seal we’ll be applying to once again conceal our world.”

They needed his chakra to power a seal so they could hide once more.

They needed his signature chakra.

They needed his chakra.

They needed him.

“I don’t mind, but I’m just John, a quite ordinary human.”

Amusement flickered on Naruto’s face as if he held back a laugh, “Oh, you might think so, but you’re anything but ordinary, John Watson.”

He was extraordinary, a term he always said to describe Sherlock and now someone used it to describe him.

He was flattered, really, but he belonged to 221B Baker Street, he belonged to a brilliant mad man he called his friend, his best friend. Should Naruto tell him this before he revealed that Sherlock was still alive, he might—no, he would have said yes with little hesitation.

However, Sherlock would need him, needed him as the human spectacles to make him understand what an amazing human being he was.

Therefore, he couldn’t accept this. That didn’t mean that he wouldn’t help them though.

“I can’t join you here, as in, I can’t live here. My place is not this amazing world; it’s back in London in 221B Baker St. and later with my genius of a flatmate if—no, when he decided to comeback. Is there a way I can give you my chakra without, er ... Do I have to live here to help you?”

“No, but I need to regularly kidnapped you to make it work.”

“I have enough experience of getting kidnapped by a lot of people, I’m sure I can add you to the list.”

Naruto laughed, a surprised but delighted laugh, “You’re a wonder, John.”

“No, no, I’m just your average bloke helping a friend.” He smiled.

“Yeah, right.” Naruto snorted.

* * *

 

48 hours later, the world righted itself.

John was back to Baker Street, unharmed and with the biggest secret he ever had the courage to bear.

The powerful world governments were put under seals that would make them forget about the ninja, Mycroft was the only exception because they need his cooperation if the illustrious ninja want to kidnap John on regular basis.

The ninja was back to mind their own affairs, and for the rest of the world, they didn’t exist.

Sherlock was back to 221B Baker Street, a bit thinner, but that was expected when one was on the run for the last six months.

John’s reunion with Sherlock consisted of a powerful punch to that ridiculous cheekbone of his, a hug, then a cuppa.

Decades later, even when they no longer need John unique chakra signature, he was still getting kidnapped once or twice a year, sometimes more frequent when Naruto needed a distraction every time he drowned in paperwork.

Every now and then, they kidnapped Sherlock too and John always had to suppress a grin whenever Sherlock hounded the ever youthful Naruto for explanation.

There was no shortage of adventures, there were always cases, stakeouts, chasing criminals or serial murderers, mysteries, and of course trips to an extraordinary world.

John lived a good life, an exciting one for sure, he was just a bit sad he had to witness the sorrow in Sherlock eyes when it was John’s time to go. But, if there was one thing he learned from the ninja, other than their incredible world, it was that they believed in reincarnation.

Who knew, maybe he got to meet Sherlock again.

He closed his eyes.

**-Fin-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "That was amazing."
> 
> "Really?"
> 
> "Yes, yes, it was quite extraordinary."
> 
> "Hm, that's not what people normally said."
> 
> "What do they say?"
> 
> "Piss off."
> 
> He laughs.
> 
> "Hm, this kind of familiar. Have we met before?"


End file.
